The Canadian's Ordeal
by foxylove51
Summary: Mattie, aka 2p Canada has run into a bit of an issue, one he has no clue how to deal with. A young lady they've found and deemed worthy to keep, who has extreme trust issues. However, he, along with his highly dysfunctional family, have taken a shine to the newest addition. Can they help Alex over come these problems or will they just give up?
1. Meeting the Insane

The muscles in my arms protested as I scrubbed the floor, desperately trying to get the blood stain out of the white living room carpet before I got myself into anymore trouble for being so useless. With a disappointed sigh I moved my rag and upon seeing that most of the stain remained I went to get some other cleaners to try, but since I'm such a klutz I accidently kicked the corner of the coffee table. My mother's favorite glass vase tipped over, spilling it's contents of roses and water unto the already messy carpet. I waited for the inevitable yelling because there was no way mom hadn't heard the loud klink of the vase colliding with the glass table top. Sure enough, I didn't wait long.

"Alex!" My mom screamed as she descended the stairs in her very revealing green night gown, thick black hair disheveled and wearing no make up. Mentally I groaned, knowing my punishment would be much worse for waking her up. To her, beauty rest is the most important thing to keep a woman her age looking young and beautiful, though in my most honest opinion I believed her to be average looking, not that that was a bad thing, it just meant she looked like what she truly was; a mom. However, after listening to my father critique her appearance for years she slipped into the same mind set. I hung my head, not daring to look her in the eyes as she usually slapped me if I did. "What the hell did you do?"

"I'm so sorry!" I apologized quickly as she stormed down the stairs to stand in front of me so that all I saw were her perfectly green polished toenails. "I was just trying to clean-" She brought her hand back and slapped me hard enough to knock me down. Her well manicured nails left shallow scratches, the kind that cause a dull burn but didn't draw any blood. I squealed as I landed in the mess I'd just made and looked up at my mother with terrified eyes. She had picked up the vase and raised it over her head, clearly intending to hit me with it. My feeble attempt to protect myself by covering my head with my arms resulted in an extremely painful wound on my right forearm. I sobbed as I lay in the large pile of glass and mom stepped on me, grinding me into the shards that embedded themelves in my skin, tearing my right side. My blood left more stains in the carpet that I'd have to clean up later. I hope I can get that done soon, or it will be ever harder to get out and I'll be punished more.

"You'd better get this mess cleaned up soon bitch." I closed my eyes and sniffed, not waning to hear but if I covered my ears it would only be worse for me later. "Maybe I should tell your father when he gets back, I'm sure he'd love a reason to beat the shit outta you."

"No, please!" I cried out in fear, trying to sit up a little, but she kept her foot firm, pinning me to the floor. "I'll clean it, I promise!"

"Just like you cleaned the blood from last night? I don't think so." The new injuries and some of my older ones throbbed painfully as she dragged me toward the basement by my hair. I kicked and squirmed hard to escape but mom held on with an iron grip. She threw me down the stairs and I whimpered when I landed at the bottom, unable to pick myself up. Mother scoffed in disgust from the top before slamming the basement door shut.

It'd been so long since I'd had some food, at least a week, and I hadn't slept good either, so all in all, I was too weak to do much more than drag myself to my shitty bathroom for some gauze, which I hd been forced to steal from a small drugstore on my way home from school, to wrap around my injuries. I carefully pulled out all the glass I could reach and wiped the blood away before doing my best to bandage myself, wincing as I did. I leaned against the wall, hissing as my wounds were irritated, and slowly slid to the cold tile floor into a pathetic, sniveling ball.

Tears fell down my face and I just couldn't stop them. Why did I get treated this way? I never asked for much in life, not all that expensive tuff like other girls my age, or anything. I didn't need a new car, or an iPhone, or a new wardrobe of expensive clothes. All I wanted was some one who loved me just because I was me. I didn't care who it came from, I just wanted it so bad! Even after all they've done to me, I love my parents, so why can't they love me? Am I really so stupid and ugly that no one can love me? Doubts, questions, and self ridicule swirled in my mind as I drifted to a fitful sleep.

I awoke some time later in the night, which is very odd for me as I always slept until daylight, but when I walked out to see the one, tiny window in the basement, it was still dark. More surprising, and scary, was that the window was open, the bottom of the frame warped from some one prying it open. I backed away a bit before darting toward the stairs, my internal panic worsening when I saw the door kicked in. Somebody was in my house, and my parents were in danger. I crept up the stairs, trying to be quiet. At the top I could peak around the corner and see into the living room a bit. My parents were there, tied to chairs from the kitchen, while a two men stood by them.

One had dark reddish-brown hair, wore a leather jacket, jeans and black boots. The other has blonde hair that fell to about his shoulders, tied back in a loose ponytail and he wore a red montes uniform. 'What the hell are they doing here?' I considered sneaking back down the stairs and through the window, but my stupid curiosity had me glued to the spot. I gulped and listened carefully, trying not to make a sound.

"Please, please stop!" My mom was practically bawling at them. Her make up was ruined and running down her cheeks from her tears. Even from here her breathing sounded erratic and much too shallow. One of the two had scratched up her face and arms, though none were too deep that she'd bleed out.

"What fun would that be?" The brunette sneered, stepping closer to my parents. Dad growled at him and received a harsh blow to his right cheek. "Speaking of which, you're pretty good looking." He gave mother a dark smile and I noticed he'd had a tooth knocked out.

"No!" Dad was hit, this time with a hockey stick by the blonde. For a second I thought his jaw might have been broken, he was hit so hard. But he turned back to them, a bit of blood running down his chin, but he still growled at them in furiosity.

"Wait, wait!" Mother's voice was hoarse from her crying, "I have a daughter, downstairs." My eyes widened at her declaration. How could she!? What kind of mother tries to sacrifice her daughter to save herself?

"Hello there poppet!" I almost squealed as a strong hand gripped my arm, right over the gauze, and pulled my out of the thresh hold. This man was smaller than the other two, though he intimidated me just as much. Honestly the guy looked creepy, despite his less than impressive attire. Seriously, a pink button up, pruple vest and khaliks? But for now I put more thought into the pain he sent up my arm, cursing the tears dripping down my face as I made everything worse by trying to yank my arm out of his grip. His over exagerrated smile fell as he pulled my arm closer then scowled deeply. "What's this then?" He readjusted his hold and slowly, gently stripped off the bandaging. Blood oozed down my arm and over his fingers as he exposed the still open gash that really needed soe stitches.

"Damn, they sure did a number on that arm, eh?" I jumped. I had momentarily forgotten about the other two men in my house. The brunette had moved closer, starign at the wound in a sort of sick fasination.

"Fuck off, aye!" The blonde with a ponytail growled, wacking the brunette in the back of his head with the hockey stick. "She's still just a kid."

"Yeah, but not for long." He licked his lips, now looking into my eyes. "Besides, Matt, she's real cute."

The blonde, Matt, just snorted in disagrrement. "Way too skinny."

For some reason, that upset, getting my heart pounding and I ground my teeth together. Why should I have to stand here while these guys scrutinized and critized me? "Well, it's not my fault my fucking parents don't feed me anything." I growled back, startling myself. Had that agressive, sassy comment truly fall from my lips, or was this all a dream? I'd never talked to anyone like that, and logic said an armed man who'd broken into my house wasn't the best person to start on.

He grinned just like the other, his sunglasses sliding down his nose to reveal violet eyes. "Maybe you're right Al. What do you think Oliver?"

"Well, this arm needs properly fixed. I, as a gentleman, can't allow a little lady to roam around this injuried. We'll just have to take her with us!" A deep dread filled me and I pulled away hard, only getting loose because I'd caught him off guard and bolting down the stairs. I ended up tripping near the bottom and for a second struggled to get back up. The heavy thuds of them on the top stairs made me push myself harder, off the ground and toward the window. I hastely pulled myself up and over the ledge, barely getting out before I was grabbed. Once I cleared our front yard I thought I was home free, but I tripped on the curb, sprawling flat on my face. Some one yanked me back by my arm, slightly off the ground and covered my airways with a strangely scented rag. Soon everything blurred together until my vision faded to black.

**Running on nothing but starbucks here, so forgive my crappy editing. As always, hope you enjoy, compliments and constructive criticism are welcome. Also, special thanks to SlifofinaDragon for being the first person to add this to their favorites, you are a totally awesome person.**

**\- Jacky**


	2. Chapter 2

I groaned and rolled over onto my belly, burying my face into the soft pillow to hide from the sun's rays. Wait, I didn't have a pillow, and the basement window didn't allow any light into my room. I turned my head to the side slightly and peaked one eye open, looking at the bed I was resting in. This was not my room. I snapped away from the soft pillows and yanked the comforter off myself, hissing at the spike of dizziness that hit me from jumping up so quickly. When the vertigo subsided I took in my surroundings. The room seemed rather plain, only a wooden desk, a chair, a book shelf, and matching dresser with a tv on the wall above it. The only thing that really stood out was the carpet, which was entirely white except for the red maple leaf in the middle that seemed familiar but the haze in my mind left me drawing a blank. The room had two doors, one of which was open to reveal cothes that, based on size and style, I'd assume were men's, meaning I was in some guy's room, which only made me more uncomfortable then before. I thought back trying to remember the last thing that happened before I passed out, no, before I was knocked out. 'That's right.' I recalled, 'Those three men were in my house last night and they kidnapped me.'

"Aw, so you're finally awake?" I gasped and whirled around to see the brunette from last night standing in the doorway. He had red eyes that stared at me from over a pair of shades in a way that made me squirm internally. Although, I suppose anyone staring at me with red eyes would bother me, it was just so creepy. "Ya know, you're kinda hot."

"Alfred F. Jones!" A shorter, much peppier looking man and up behind the brunette and smacked the back of his head with a rolling pin. I remebered this one as the guy who insisted they take me, supposedly to take care of my arm. "That is no way to speak to a lady! Remeber your manners." He walked closer and stopped at the foot of the bed, holding out one hand. "Hello deary, it's good to see you awake. Terribly sorry that we couldn't be properly introduced last night poppet. My name is Oliver, what is your name?"

After a pause I shyly shook his hand, "A-Alex." I swallowed, cursing myself for stuttering, but this guy! The other, Alfred, was obviously bad news, but Oliver gave off a vibe of creepiness. I hadn't noticed in the dim lighting last night, but Oliver had very strange blue eyes. When he smiled it was too large, showing off too much of his teeth.

"Oh, aren't you just the cutest little thing!" He approached me, stretching his hands out, startling me. The guy looked dumbstruck as I jumped away from him, completely off the bed, wide eyed and slightly accelerated breathing. "Oh poppet, are you scared?" His smile tranformed to a scowl and he whirled around to glare at Alfred. "Did you do anything to her?"

"Nah, you're just majorly creepy." Al grinned even as the smile fell off Oliver's face, and I must have some head tauma because his eyes seemed to have a hint of pink before he snapped back to his weird turned back to me and glanced at my arm, which had been bandaged as promised, but blood had seeped through while I slept.

"Oh, you poor thing! Why don't you come with me to get that rewrapped? I'm sure they must be getting uncomfortable for you." He grabbed my wrist, though thankfully not too hard, and pulled me along behind him to a bathroom. I was promptly lifted onto the counter and my sleeve pushed up. He carefully took off the dirty wrappings and pulled a first aid kit from under the sink. I stared at the wall, wincing a bit as he put antibacterial spray on the wound and began patching me up. "Good lord, your arm is terrible sweetheart! How did you get this?"

Telling Oliver about my parent issues was not something I wanted to do, but long ago I'd had it ground into my brain that when I was asked a question, I damn well better answer. "I knocked over mama's favorite vase, so she hit me with the vase and shoved me into the glass shards, then ground me into them with her foot."

He paused before returning to work, his hands shaking a little. "Ya know," He stopped everything as a burst of chuckles escaped him. The force of his laughter escalated until he eventually was laughing like the mad man I'm sure he was. The guy even had to hold himself up using the sink.

"A-Alfred!" I yelled, hoping he could, or rather would, help me. It didn't take long for him to appear in the doorway. By now I'd jumped off the sink and got a few feet between myself and Oliver, not wanting to get hit, or worse, by him in his anger.

"Oi, what did ya say to him?" Alfred asked, wrapping an arm around Oliver to support him.

"What's happening to him?" I shook as Oliver's fit got a bit louder and pressed myself into the wall opposite of them. My heart pounded in my chest with a fury unlike ever before and unshed tears filled my eyes.

"He gets like this when something upsets him." Al's red eyes stared straight at me, more unnerving then when I had first see him, which I had previously believed was impossible. "What did you say?"

"He asked me how I got my injuries, so I answered." I bit my lower lip, a habit I'd developed after mother informed me that fidgeting and avoiding eye contact was disgraceful, via fist in my face.

"How'd you get them?" He pushed, irritated with my evasiveness.

"M-my parents." I stuttered. I've never been one for attention, and I certainly don't like to put all my problems out there for others to examine. It was my business, not theirs. I swear, if I make it out of here alive I'm moving away from any cities, maybe even out of the country to some place like Canada, or Russia.

"Come on Oliver, deep breathes." He patted Oliver's back, trying to get him to calm down. The laughter slowly went down and he appeared to be fine.

"Alex," Oliver was struggling with his speech, thanks to his remaining giggles, "ya know, us here, we're killers. But even we...even we d-don't hurt our own family. Y-your parents disgust me. Maybe I should take care of them myself." I stared wide eyed at him, frightful of his threats, even if he hadn't directed them at me. Why did I have to get kidnapped by a group of crazed serial killers? Alfred began leading Oliver back to the room we'd started in, gesturing that I follow with his head.

Alfred scoffed at the confused look I wore. "You ain't too bright are you?" He helped Oliver to sat on the desk chair and then turned to me. "We're not going to hurt you. Like Oliver already said, we don't hurt little ones like you." At this point I decided erhaps I should not tell them that I had turned eighteen recently and therefore NOT a child. The expression morphed into what I can only describe as perverse. "Can't say I won't bite though." Further cementing my plan of hiding my age.

I only whimpered faintly and backed away, scared by the mild threat. His answer just confused me! Clearly this group had no sense of morality, so why bother with mercy on children? What if they found out the truth later and kill me? I HAD to get out of here, and fast.

"Alfred, we have to go talk to the others." Oliver coughed, but seemed to have otherwise recovered from his fit. "Alex you can take a nap if you want, I'm sure this entire ordeal has left you exhaled. And you know what they say, penty of rest is good for healing."

"And you look like shit." Oliver smacked him and they left, closing the door behind them. Seeing as I had nothing better to do, and my adrenaline was gone, leaving me with the fatigue of so many sleepless nights, I laid back down to sleep some more. Briefly I agknowleged that I might be killed in my sleep, but at least there'd be less pain that way, maye even no pain. I really didn't want to feel more pain. Everything that had happened kept running through my head, but eventually I fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"She's fiesty, I'll give her that, but why'd you want to keep this girl?" Canada grumbled, lazily slumped over on the couch as he watched television with his 'family'. "What good is a cowardly, snot nosed brat?"

"Now, now Matthew, we don't really know anything about this girl." Oliver chided after pushing Canada's feet off the coffee table, "Besides, I think she's got a lot of potential, if she can work past her trauma."

"Yeah, in theory, but what if she doesn't?" Matthew growled. He really didn't feel like having this discussion with his former caretaker, who was being annoying optimistic about the situation. All Matthew wanted to do is take off into his native country, away from these freaks. "Then it'll end up a big waste of time."

"You said the say thing about the last one and he turned into a mass murderer." Alfred mumbled through a bite of an apple, disgusting Matthew as juice dripped down his chin. Matthew threw one of his books from the coffee table at his brother, but Al easily dodged because he had anticipated Matt's reaction.

"Don't talk with your mouth full of food Alfred!" Oliver snapped, frowning at the brunette, then turning to his other 'son'. "It'll be okay. Just give her a chance and if she doesn't progress much after a few months we'll get rid of her. But we are not killing this one, I like her too much."

"Oliver's right, so shut up." France added, lighting a cigarette. Matthew glared at him from over his shades. France may be his 'father', but Canada hated being told what to do and orders made him wants to hit the older country in the face with his hockey stick. Ay least oliver made it sound more like a request. He slung his boot covered feet back onto the table, ignoring the look Oliver gave him. "You know he has a sense for these things that we do not."

Oliver went back to smiling creepily. "Well, she'll probably be hungry so I'm going to make her something to eat." The brit stood and pushed Canada's feet back off the table as he walked past.

"Hey, don't forget not to poison it, ay." Canada reminded him. Oliver's food may taste better then Arthur's but it was just as deadly if Ollie wanted it to be. Or sometimes when he hadn't.

"I'd never do that to Alex. She's much too adorable for that!" Oliver happily skipped to the kitchen, followed by a grumbling France.

"At least she's hot man. Could've gotten stuck with an ugly bitch." Alfred wiggled his eyebrows in a typical perverse American gesture. Of course, Matthew almost disagreed with his brother, being that his tastes in women were different. Unlike Al he wasn't really interested in tiny women who looked half starved, instead preferring average women, as in what average should be, not the toothpick tiny that seemed the norm, nor too chunky. Unfortunately, this girl was much too thin to be healthy, a sign that she had been starved as well as beaten. In fact he feared he would break bones if he so much as touched her too hard, but she _was_ pretty, and with a few more pounds, which could easily be done, she'd be close to perfect.

"Yeah." Matthew reached down and pet the wolf that lay at his feet, the one he'd rescued only a few days prior. The canine hadn't recovered enough to be released, so Matt took her in until she was. Kumajirou swatted at the Candian's arm with a paw, drawing thin red lines along his arm, displeased with the blond's lack of attention to him in favor of the wolf, but Matthew paid him no heed. The callous man barely felt the scratchs from his bear anymore. Canada leaned back and ran a hand through his hair, messing the wavy golden hair more than usual.

"Oh, Matthew, be a dear and take this to Alex, would you?" Oliver asked when he popped back into the living room with a tray of food.

"Whatever." I grumbled, hauling myself off the couch, taking the tray with a sneer and walking toward the stairway. The wolf nearly knocked me over in its mad dash up the stair case and into my room, where she had gotten use to sleeping.

In my room, where Oliver told her she was welcome to stay, without my permission damn it, Alex lay in my bed, fast asleep. The little thing had curled up in the comforter and snuggled deep into the pillows. The wolf balked just short of the bed, staring at the 'intruder', lips curled up to show sharp fangs while growling lowly. Ignoring the overly protective beast I set the tray down and oh so carefully pulled the blanket so that I got a good look at the girl's face. Unlike when she'd been awake, in sleep peace conquered her features, but the Canadian wondered if that exterior matches the interior, which he very seriously doubted. Over all, her looks were not bad, average, without any unattractive features like a huge nose or twenty facial piercings. Alex's hair was pitch black and fell about to her waist, if Matthew was remembering correctly. Black side bangs hung over her right eye and... Canada pushed a bit of the hair around her neck away to reveal a rather nasty looking scar. No doubt this one had caused some trouble, seeing as it was in a spot that could have killed her without some quick medical attention.

He snorted in mild disgust. Unfortunately the noise, although soft, woke Alex and she flinched away because of his grimace. "Who are you?" She was trying to keep her eyes on his face, but it obviously made her very uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortale as the sudden snarl from his furry companion, making her scoot away a bit. She swallowed loudly and returned her gaze back to the man in front of her, scrutinizing his semi-familiar face as her brain shook the fog of sleep off enough for proper thought. "Wait, you're one o the guys who kidnapped me. Matt, I think?"

Canada...hadn't expected that. How the hell had she remembered his name when he'd never given it to her and him being some one she'd met only once before passing out. However, Matt certainly didn't plan on complaining, on the contrary, having some one, anyone, outside his family recognize him felt satisfying. Even the kids he'd personally trained no longer realised who he was, despite having spent years in his prescence.

"Why is there a wolf in here?" She inquired, never taking her eyes off what she had deemed the most dangerous thing in the room. Not that he blamed her for the mistake, with the way the wolf stared at her, cold blue eyes holding the intellegence and hunger of a predator. Every muscle she possessed was so damn tense, like she planned on bolting at the soonest opportunity.

"Brought you lunch." Matthew muttered, pointing to the tray and dodging the question. His scowl deepened when the pathetic girl didn't even pay any attetion, so afraid of the fucking canine instead. "Shut up aye." He hissed, grabbing an ear as a warning, satisfied when all growls stopped.

"Um, thank you." She pushed away the blanket to move the tiniest bit closer to the tray of food and Matthew, but neither said or did anything more than avoid looking at the other. The wolf decided to break their awkward moment of silence by whining, receiving Alex's full attention.

"You can probably pet her now." Matthew ground the offer out, still unsure how he felt about this one. As he stated earlier, she was clearly very weak and a bit cowardly, even if she'd shown an ounce of another word he dashed away, down the stairs and past his family into the basement. With a huff the Canadian threw himself down on the couch, covering his eyes with an arm. His mind went over and and over the exchange, analyzing every detail of speech and body language, trying to find a repute to Oliver's faith, but there were none to be found. In fact, he only got the opposite for his efforts.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning was, simply put, dreadful for Matthew. Of course anyone who woke up to a smug looking America would agree, so he did his best to roll over and go back to sleep, but Al wasn't having it. "Oh no you don't! I've been waiting forever to hear you admit that we were right about Alex."

Canada raised one eyebrow and taunted, "Alex? You rarely address our captives by name, and never on the second day."

"What?" Al growled. "Would there be a problem with that?"

"Nah man I don't give two shits what you do." Sighing in defeat, the pancake lover sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. Al swung himself over the back of the couch in the now free spot, waiting for an answer. "I'm not so sure anymore. She shows potential, but I have no clue if she'd act on it."

"Seriously?" Matthew almost growled at his pesky brother. "I didn't think you'd ever admit that you were wrong. Usually you're stubborn as a moose."

The blond man ran a hand through his wavy hair as he sighed in disappointment and frustration. "Seriously Al, just shut the fuck up. I'm tired of your damn moose and pancake jokes. They're not even funny."

With a shit eating grin Al wrapped an arm around his brother, ignoring the pointed glare he received. He tilted his head so that his sunglasses fell down his face, balancing at the tip of his nose and showing off his crimson eyes. "Not on your life, fucking Canadian prick."

"That's all you've got?" Matt snarled, ripping Al's arm away. "If I wanted pussy insults I'd go to France."

"Fine." He snorted and got up, leaving Matthew. "Go talk to those losers, ya fucking bitch."

* * *

Oliver grinned happily as he knocked on Matthew's door. Of course he knew Alex was in there and like any gentlemen he would never walk straight into a lady's room. It simply wasn't done. "Come in!" Alex yelled back and Oliver chuckled at how sleepy she had sounded.

When he entered he spotted her sitting in the corner, going through a duffel bag of clothes Al and Matt had kindly thought to bring along from her house. Oliver quickly concluded that her clothes were unfit for a sweet young woman such as herself, and if her parents weren't already among the deceased he'd have a few words with them. They were all old hand me downs with stains, rips, and discolored spots, making the englishman suspect that they had either been purchased at second hand stores or fished out of a dumpster. That would not do for his new trainee, thank you very much. "Oh my deary, you can't go around wearing those dreadful things!"

He tsked and threw open the Canadian's closet door, though he only grimaced at the inumerable plaid shirts and jeans. Maybe Matthew needed some new clothes as well. He pulled out a grey, black and white plaid shirt that couldn't possibly still fit the large man and tossed it to Alex. He of course turned around while she changed, since he was a gentleman. It was pretty close, but still a bit too big for the petite girl. "We're going to have to get you a new wardrobe, aren't we?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask you to do something like that." A scarlet red blush formed on her cheeks and Ollie momentarily marveled at how foreign kindness truly was to this girl. Oh how refreshing this doe eyed poppet was compared to his illmannered brothers and the rascallions that had come before.

"You don't seem to understand poppet." Grinning he sat down beside her, overlooking her minor discomfort. She'd get over it, though the effects of abuse did tend to linger for a while. "I'm not making you an offer, I'm telling you, so let's go." He grabbed her too thin wrist, wondeing idly how easy it would be to snap the fragile bones there, not that he was going to find out, mind you. She'd need a better diet to gain the muscles needed for fighting and escaping if they intended on properly training her.

"Now?" She asked in disbelief even as Ollie pulled her along behind him and down the stairs. "Of course." Who was she to argue with the insane man? Well, considering she wished to live, no one. Plus, if she did something bad he might beat her.

She was pulled into an older looking car, but she'd never been good enough to tell with cars, so she didn't bother trying to figure out. Instead Alex gripped the seat's edge as Oliver drove to the nearest town a bit too quickly. She screamed when he cut off a semi truck, which almost crashed into them but somehow no one got hurt. "Um, Oliver? Could you please slow down a bit?" She bit her lip and scrunched her eyes shut as he ran through a red light without even looking for other cars. Man, where were the cops in this town and why weren't they chasing them down yet?

"No can do poppet." Alex whimpered in fear, holding on tighter. "We need to hurry because it's my turn to cook dinner tonight." He happily flew into some store's parking lot and slammed the brakes. Immediately Alex was out, panting heavily and trying to calm her beating heart before she had a heart attack. Oliver didn't seem to notice as he recaptured her hand and led her inside to the woman's clothing department.

Admittedly, this place was a second hand store, but it seemed most items were barely, if ever, worn and had probably once been rather expensive. She went through them, occasionally having something handed to her by Oliver, who refused to leave her side after she'd attempted an escape while he'd left her alone in the dressing room to find more clothes. Finally a good sized stack had been piled up in the cart, mostly consisting of plaid, button up shirts, tshirts and jeans. What can she say? She's a country girl at heart. However, Oliver put some of her choices back and grabbed form fitting clothes that, although tight, weren't too revealing, mostly in dark colors. A few jackets made of some type of synthetic material were also thrown in, as well as shorts and tank tops. Alex raised an eyebrow when a few pairs of MMA gloves got thrown in the basket as well. Several pairs of tennis shoes and boots went in as well.

"Let's get you a dress too." Alex cringed at the British man, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "I'm just saying that a formal dress for special occasions isn't a bad idea."

"O-okay." And so they ventured to two racks full on both sides with dresses. A shelf ran over the top of the rack which contained many boxes of shoes, most of which were heels. After looking, studying, and rethinking every dress it was down to just two. One was a nearly floor length blue dress with a v-neck and a slit on the right side up to the thigh and the other a shorter, strapless black dress.

"Alright," Oliver held the two up side by side for alex to compare. "Which one?"

"Um." Both were very pretty, prettier than anything Alex had ever owned and she felt it was too much to ask for either. What in this world did she need such nice dresses for anyway?

Meanwhile Oliver was thinking Alex would look spectacular in either dress. It seemed such a shame to leave one behind when he had more than enough money to buy both. With a big grin plastered on his face he put them in the cart. "Both! You'd be beautiful in them both, and they're not really that expensive." Two pairs of heels ended up in the cart next, one for each dress.

"Um, are you sure it's okay to get all of this for me?" She tried backing out once they reached the check out lanes and the blond only confirmed that it was before taking the stuff to check out himself. He chose not to comment when she flinched away as he reached toward her. Alex refused to look at the amount he paid, certain the numbers would horrify her. On the way home they stopped at a small mall and Oliver brought them right in front of a Victoria's Secret shop.

A bright red blush covered every inch of Oliver's face as he handed Alex a wad of cash. "Um, go buy yourself...things. I'll be in the book store down there when you finish." Blushing herself, Alex took it with a thanks and walked into the most terrifyingly embarrassing places she'd been her entire life. "Oh, and poppet?" She paused to hear what the Brit had to say, biting her lip nervously. "Don't even think of running away from me. You won't get very far."

Alex was still blushing as she entered the book store where she immediately spotted her British escort sitting in a plush looking chair, contently enraptured in a copy of Wuthering Heights. She took the seat next to him, plopping down rather dramatically. The blonde was roused from his reading at the sound of the two bags she had been carrying hitting the floor. "Have fun deary?"

"Absolutely not!" Groaning, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, resting. "The woman there was so rude."

"Really." He closed the book and set it atop a small stack of five or so others. "How so?"

"Well, she was...bustier and kept pointing out how small I am in comparison." Unable to look at Oliver she stared at the floor, clearly embarrassed. Oliver couldn't blame her for that.

Although he would normally have been scarlet as well, Olive seemed more angry than embarrassed. "How very un-lady like. I have half a mind to go back there and teach her some manners myself." Snorting in distaste, the gentleman gathered his books and Alex's stuff.

"I can carry those myself." She tried to steal them back, but Oliver wasn't having it.

"No deary, I could never ask a lady to carry her bags when I'm capable of doing it." He gave a big smile, the first ever that eased Alex instead of frightening her. "Would you care for a book while we're already here?"

"Well, I'm actually not a good reader." Alex admitted ashamed. "I didn't get a lot of practice."

"That's fine, why not get some and get better? We'll help you, I promise." With a small nod she went through the shelves, picking out a few that caught her attention. Oliver added them to his stack and took them to the register to pay. Unfortunately, while he was occupied Alex stole a couple bags away to carry, which displeased him, but there wasn't enough time for him to argue about it. They'd been shopping all day and now he only had two hours before supper time.

"Thank you Oliver." Alex smiled as they loaded everything into the back seat of the car. She grabbed him once his arms were free and hugged him.

"Quite alright." He wrapped one arm around her to hug back and pat her head with his other hand. "Now then, let's get home poppet."

* * *

America followed Canada through the house, incessently teasing the shit out of his bro since he had nothing else to do in this shit hole. Normally he'd go out and murder a few bastards, or go to a bar and get drunk, maybe even bring home some bar chick, but both his asshole 'parents' had told them to stay low, for now. Apparently murdering two parents and kidnapping their teenage daughter caused more of an uproar then shanking a drunk ass in a dark alley in the late hours of the night. And so, Al only had whatever was in the house to entertain himself. He'd watched every movie they owed, beaten all the video games, watched hours of internet videos, and hell, he'd even read all the interesting books. That left his precious brother, Matt. "So, wanna play ball? I know you're really into shitty hockey, but we both know baseball's much better."

"Shut up mother fucker." Matthew hissed, turning around to punch his brother in his face. The brunette ducked quickly, barely avoiding Mattie's fist. Those years of hockey playing had made Matt fast and really strong, so it hurt like hell when he got in a good hit. Not that baseball hadn't done the same for him, but hockey took more muscle and the players really took a beating in the ice rink.

A squeal from outside captured both boys' attention, the familiar sound alerting them that Oliver and Alex had returned from the mall. "About time, I'm hungry." Canada snorted, shoving Al aside to go help carry stuff in. "Hurry up asswipe, you know how he gets if we don't help." Al paled and rushed after his brother, not wanting a repeat of last time he decided to be lazy.


End file.
